


Where I Belong

by still_searching



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Barebacking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Sex, Slow Build, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 15:11:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1231123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_searching/pseuds/still_searching
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon moves into his college dorm and develops superpowers. It turns out, he's not the only one and soon gets drawn into a community of people struggling to deal with their own powers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where I Belong

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are real, my imagination isn't. Enjoy!

Brendon stared at the book in disbelief. Just a second ago, it had been all the way across the room, tucked neatly between two worn paperbacks that he hadn’t opened in years. It had been pretty annoying for him to untangle himself from his comfortable mass of blankets to go get the book his English teacher wanted him to read, so he had just reached his arm out. The gesture was only meant to be silly, a pathetic reach across the room, but when the book tipped out of the bookshelf and floated across the room into Brendon’s unsuspecting hand, he had shrieked, in a very manly fashion, and dropped it.

“What the fuck?” He breathed, staring at the book like it was going to jump up and bite his nose. He glanced at the door, relieved to see it closed and said a silent prayer to God for making sure that his roommate wasn’t home.

Brendon nudged the book with his foot. It didn’t move. He slowly picked up the book. Again, it didn't move. 

"Huh." Brendon said to himself. "Must be me." He reached his hand out towards an empty glass of water and concentrated, trying to use the Force. It didn't move. Brendon squinted at the glass and concentrated harder, his fingers going stiff with tension. Still, nothing happened. The glass just sat on his night stand, mocking his sanity.

"Too much caffeine again." Brendon muttered, silently cursing himself for being an idiot. His only consolation was that there wasn't anyone in the room to see him reach out stupidly towards an empty glass. He opened the book and started to reach the first line when the glass shot off the nightstand and smacked him in the head. 

"Fuck!" Brendon cursed loudly, clutching the bruise on his head. He glanced down at the glass and rubbed the aching spot on his head. He had a thousand questions. How did this happen? What was wrong with him? Was he simply going crazy?

He glanced up and focused on something soft this time. A pair of pants. Slowly, the pants floated across the room. Brendon stopped it halfway, and they were just suspended in the air. Then he dropped then and pointed his finger at the decorative bowl of stones on his room mate Alex's nightstand. A few stones floated up into the air. Brendon screwed his eyes in concentration and the pebbles floated into formation to form a crude smiley face. 

The door suddenly opened and Brendon jumped, losing his focus. The pebbles fell onto the ground with a clatter and Alex stumbled in, drunk. 

"Hello there Bren." He slurred, kicking off his shoes. He stepped on one of the pebbles and slipped, falling onto his bed with a surprised yelp. Brendon smiled slowly. This was going to be fun.

* * *

 

It was Friday night, and instead of studying for his Biology test like he was supposed to, Brendon had squeezed himself into his tightest jeans and took a cab down to the East Village. Although he had never even been in New York City, his roommate had said something about Angels & Kings being a great place to go on a friday night. And he had whispered the password of the week into Brendon's ear, giving him a wink. Apparently, a whole lot of other people thought so too; the place was crowded, but not packed.

This was the kind of place you went to to disappear. There was a doorman who eyed him suspiciously as he gave the password and walked in, but there was no other security. There was no coat check, just a black wall covered in band stickers and a hundred different handwritings. 

The music thumping from the speakers was some mix of French house and rock. It was strange, but for a place like this, it worked. There were a few gay couples mingling with the straight ones, and Brendon smiled when he felt a few eyes follow his ass as he walked by. 

Scanning the room, his eyes fell on a tall, almost lanky man lounging in the back, near the VIP area by himself. He was surveying the scene before him while sipping from a glass of amber liquid. There was something cat-like about his stance and the way his eyes lazily flicked back and forth across the dance floor of writhing bodies. The man's whisky colored eyes eventually landed on Brendon, lingering on him a second longer before they moved on. 

Granted, the guy was hot, but he seemed way too haughty and self righteous. Not Brendon's type. Moving on. He made his way over to the bar and signaled the bartender. Soon he was downing three shots of vodka in a row and he could already feel the dizzying buzz of alcohol shoot right to his bloodstream. 

"This is compliments of the gentleman over there." The bartender slid another shot in front of Brendon and gestured to a preppy looking guy across the bar. He was blonde, with blue eyes. Conventionally attractive, but still nice to look at. Brendon pulled the corner of his mouth up into a smile of thanks and tossed the shot back. He slid out of his seat, ready to dance, when a pair of large hands slid around his hips.

"Has anyone told you," A husky voice hissed into his ear. "That you have a phenomenal ass?" The scent of alcohol on his breath was almost overpowering.

Brendon looked up over his shoulder. It was the guy from across the bar. He ground his hips into Brendon's in time with the beat of the music. 

Brendon wondered if he should shake the man off, but he did just get a free drink, so he mentally shrugged and started to move his hips in time with the beat. He had no problem with a little dancing. 

He did, however, have a problem with the guy slowly moving them over to a side exit, and pressing Brendon against the door, grinding his semi-hard cock into Brendon's hip and sucking sloppy wet kisses into his neck.

"Stop." Brendon said firmly, shoving the guy off of him, only to have him press back and violently slam Brendon against the door, reaching for his belt buckle. 

"You know you want this." The guy slurred drunkenly. It was a miracle he could even stand. "You're so fucking hot, parading that ass around. Fuck, I'm gonna fuck you until you scream.

"Stop. Fuck, stop!" Brendon cried as rough hands were shoved down into his briefs. He squeezed his eyes shut, and pushed with his mind, and the guy was flying off of him, soaring through the air until he slammed into the wall with a sickening crack and slid down to land in a drunken pile of limbs. 

Shaking, Brendon made his way out of the side exit, buckling up his pants and taking a deep, uneven breath. He rounded the corner, but stopped when a low, almost monotonous voice said, "You should be careful with that." 

Brendon froze and turned. Leaning against the wall, with a lit cigarette in his hand, was the guy from the VIP section, the one with the amber eyes. 

"Wh-what?" Brendon stuttered. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

The man just raised an eyebrow. "Sure you don't." He pushed himself off the wall and flicked his cigarette into the darkness of the shadows, the glowing tip flaring up as it flew through the air. 

"You're coming with me." The man wrapped his long fingers around Brendon's wrist and pulled him back towards the club. 

"Let go of me!" Brendon demanded, his heart picking up a frantic beat. Attempted rape twice in a night was not okay. He gritted his teeth and concentrated. He pushed the man away from him in a burst of energy. "I'm leaving." Brendon said, backing away in case the man tried anything. But he just rolled his eyes. 

There was a burst of heat and the ground around Brendon ignited, a ring of 5 feet tall flames blocking his way. 

"How'd you do that?" Brendon gasped as the flames flickered and subsided a bit, only enough for him to make out the man's face over the rolling waves of heat.

"Now are you going to come with me, or do I have to herd you?" There was a dangerous glint in the man's eyes.

Brendon gulped and nodded, the sinking feeling in his stomach growing heavier and heavier. The flames subsided and he stepped out gingerly.

His captor surprised him by stepping forward and holding out his hand. "Ryan Ross." 

"Brendon. Urie." Brendon said uncertainly, and shook the fire maker's hand. "You know," He tried, feeling a bit more confident after the display of civility. "Rape's illegal. And you'll go to Hell for it. And isn't it more satisfying when you have a willing partner? I mean, at least I think so...Not that I've raped anyone before, I'm not like that!" He rambled.

Ryan looked at Brendon with a strange expression on his face, like _he_ was the crazy one. "I wasn't going to rape you." He said slowly. "I'm trying to help you." 

"Forgive me if I don't believe that. And the fire..." Brendon trailed off. 

"Stop talking and follow me." Ryan demanded, slipping back into Angels & Kings.

Brendon glanced behind himself and for a split second he contemplated making a mad dash for it, but he was pretty sure Ryan would only follow him and set his head on fire. He had no choice but to follow Ryan back into the room of flashing strobe lights. 

Ryan made his way back to the VIP section, giving the bouncer a vague, "He's with me," as he passed by. Instead of stopping at one of the booths, Ryan walked further back, until he got to a door. Behind that door was a stair case that led all the way down into the basement, but even then Brendon could still hear the throb of the speakers moving through the walls. 

He glanced nervously at the flickering lights and wondered if Ryan had changed his mind about the whole raping thing. 

Ryan had stopped at a door at the end of the hallway and waited for Brendon to catch up. 

"What I'm about to show you, can't leave this club." He said seriously, his eyes staring into Brendon's. "If it does...well...let's just say it won't end well." 

Brendon gulped and nodded frantically. Ryan gave him one last odd look before knocking loudly on the door. "Siska it's me." There was a moment and the door opened a crack. A single gray eye peered out and the door opened wider a second later. 

"Who's this?" A young man with messy curls dressed in workout clothes stood on the other side, his arms crossed defensively. "You're not supposed to bring anyone down here." 

"He's one of us." Ryan said, and pushed past Siska. As soon as Brendon entered the room, understood the need for the thumping loud bass and the club full of people upstairs. Because down here, well, it was like a glorified fight club. For people with powers. There were only about ten people in the room. There were pairs sparring in a huge, padded room. Every once in a while, someone would do something crazy, like turn invisible or throw chunks of ice at their opponent. A guy flew across the room and hit the wall with such force that it resonated across the room, but he got back up and charged at his opponent like he had only tripped. 

"What is this?" Brendon asked Ryan. "Is this safe? Is this even legal? Oh my God, is this a Palahniuk thing? It's totally a Palahniuk thing, isn't it??"

"Calm down. You'll see." Ryan muttered, then called across the room. "Pete!" 

A short guy with tattoos running up and down his arm glanced up from his conversation with a short blonde guy in a hat and another guy with his curly hair tied back in a ponytail. His eyes widened when they landed on Brendon, but he beckoned him over. 

"Ryan, what did I tell you about bringing home stray?" He mock chided, an amused smile flickering across his face. 

"Shut up." Ryan muttered. Brendon glanced between the two men. Clearly, there was something more going on here. Maybe they were ex-lovers. He glanced at Pete, who could be considered attractive in some circles, but Brendon thought that he looked a bit too rough for his taste. 

"Nope, Ryan and I haven't fucked. Yet." Pete threw a wink at Ryan before focusing his gaze at Brendon, who was sure that he had the classic 'deer in headlights' look on his face.

"A fucking hot deer." Pete said, smirking at Brendon, his gaze sliding 

"Stop it, you're making him uncomfortable." Ryan said moodily. 

"It's never bothered you before." Pete said, never taking his eyes off of Brendon.

"Pete's a telepath. He's running circles around your thoughts right now." Hat guy said. He was wearing workout clothes, like the rest of the guys, but he still had a black fedora perched jauntily on his head.

Brendon choked on his own spit and instinctively covered his face with his hands, as if an extra layer of skin and bones could stop Pete from shuffling through his thoughts. 

There was a soft chuckle. 

"He's kidding." Pete said. "Although I do joke about it, I try to respect everyone's privacy. Most of the time." He added as an after thought.

Brendon slowly uncovered his face.

"So...do you all just come here to beat the shit out each other?" He asked.

"No!" Ponytail laughed. "It's a training facility. We help people with abilities control them so they don't hurt themselves or anyone else or out the rest of us."

Brendon eyed the violent display in front of him. "Are you sure?" He asked after a moment of silence.

Hat Guy cracked a smile. "Somewhere along the way we got caught in a rivalry. Now we're kind of a crime fighting gang. But only the people who want to do it stay. I'm Patrick." He stuck out his hand for Brendon to shake.

"Joe." Ponytail guy stuck out his hand too. 

"So Brendon." Pete was looking at him with an amused but at the same time predatory look. "What can you do?"

"Uh. I can move things I guess. But I'm not too good at it. The second time I did it I kind of hit myself in the head."

Pete laughed. "I can help." He put the clipboard down. "Let's start with finding your limits."

As Pete led him towards a strange looking set of weights, Brendon could only find time to glance back at Ryan, who was watching him go with yet another strange expression on his face.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was pretty tired, it's like 3 am. Stupid insomnia. Anyways, leave your comments, let me know if there's anything that i missed in these wee hours of the morning.


End file.
